


Try

by CharismaticEnticer



Category: Die Anstalt
Genre: Cute, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Germany, Kissing, Mental Instability, POV Second Person, Personal Space, Present Tense, Stuff & Fluff, Stuffed Toys, Violence Request, Vulnerability, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Well that escalated quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharismaticEnticer/pseuds/CharismaticEnticer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It comes out of nowhere, but it changes something between you and her, something fundamental. And now kissing her is all you can think of to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try

**Author's Note:**

> I admit, at first I didn't have a 'core reason' for shipping Kroko/Dolly. The fact I played them back to back when I first checked the game out might have had something to do with it, but since there's less canon evidence to support them than Sly/Marionetta, it seemed random that I'd start getting behind it. Yet, when you consider their penchant for comfort items, their potential shared disorders (namely variants on PTSD), and the fact that they would understand each other as a result, it makes sense. 
> 
> Originally written and published on April 9th 2012.
> 
> Die Anstalt © Martin Kittsteiner.

The first kiss is awkward, even by your standards of the word, simply because it comes so out of nowhere.  
You've talked to her before, about little things like what you were admitted for and what you can remember of the past and whether it's selfish to worry about yourself more than others. But until now, you've never heard her scream very loudly at an invisible being (it can't be the therapist, because he isn't here) in a language you can't understand. Only the word "monster" gets through.  
When no one is looking, you sneak in and ask her who she was talking to. She makes to deny it, in your language now, then to escape.   
She moves backwards closer to the end of the couch, her legs shaking, her voice too. You climb up and follow out of sheer worry and panic, asking her frantically what the matter is, what can't she tell you, how can you help her, please Dolly calm down...  
And suddenly she goes forward instead and her muzzle is on your mouth, silencing you. The rest of the world goes quiet too, down to the noises in your head.  
When she pulls away, the first thing that registers is how soft she felt.   
"[I'm sorry,]" she whispers as she makes for the door, you too stunned to pursue. "[I had to- I... I'd love to tell you what's going on, but... I can't. I'm sorry.]"  
  
It takes a while, another session to be exact, before you summon the courage to get to the second kiss. You haven't seen her since then, except in your mind, the first still ringing through your every waking thought. But by then you are an eagle and a crocodile both, so you're a little braver, although the idea of water falling on your nose still freezes you up.   
You find her curled up in a ball in a corner, covering her stomach. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and you almost tear up too at the sight of it.   
You try to ask her permission first, but she intercepts before you can get to the Key word. "[Go ahead. God knows I deserve it after what I did to you.]"  
You beg forgiveness if you do it wrong. You know you will.   
"[Kroko, there's no **wrong way** to hit someone,]" she says, exasperatedly despite the choke in her words. "[Slap, punch, what have you. Just do it and go away.]"  
Needless to say you don't hit her. Why would you? You kiss her instead, timidly and a little too quickly, but enough to tell her she doesn't deserve hitting. Then you leave her alone.  
  
She catches up with you later, back in the therapy room; this time you are the one hiding from the others. She apologises again, as do you; she doesn't sound sad anymore. She explains that she can't tell _anyone_ about what the matter is, not just you. "[It's something I need to sort out by myself. You understand, right?]"   
You do, and you nod to prove it. She nods back in return, reassured.   
Then, unexpectedly, she tells you your kiss was too short. "[You said before you didn't want to do it wrong,]" she clarifies, "[but how can I tell if you did it wrong or right if it only lasted one second?]"  
Your stomach does a little backflip inside of you, in a good way.   
Does this mean she wants you to kiss her again? Even after you messed up? If it were anyone but Dolly, you'd suspect them of teasing you, but you know her. She's honest. She can hurt sometimes, and cause a lot of pain, but it's usually physical and she never seems to mean it. She wouldn't just...   
You ask her just the same, masking your confusion.  
"[Well, if you want to, then why not?]"  
She knows **you** want to. But does **she** want it too?  
"[...yes, I do. Please.]"  
  
You try to do everything right in the third kiss. By which you mean you try to do what Dolly would want.   
Oddly, that means not trying very hard. You still remember every moment of the first, so you just copy that, sometimes moving with her, sometimes against her. You almost mess up in places, but she then works with that and it becomes so very right. So soft.   
Gradually, it becomes easier. More natural. It's like you were manufactured specifically to kiss her, the curve of your jaw matching the slope of her muzzle almost exactly. Crocodile and sheep made to fit together as one.   
  
You stop kissing her after forever inside of a moment. Dolly was beautiful before the first, but in this light, in this mood, she is stunning, her ears tilted at a strokable angle, her eyes not red.  
The question is unavoidable. Did you do it right that time?  
"[Yeah. Yeah, you did. Mostly.]"  
Your heart plummets. You try to apologise sixty times over, but you only manage one before she stops you: "[No no, it's not a big problem. Just a little thing that needs fixing, that's all.]"  
You ask quietly what the problem actually was.   
"[It ended.]"  
And then she kisses you for the fourth time and nothing else matters but her.   
You do not have to try. You simply do.   
  
Somewhere in the middle when her hooves start dancing along the ridges on your back, you realise you love her, and take a moment to say so. "[You don't know that,]" she says with a laugh, but deep down you do, and you think she feels the same way too, especially when she admits as much, and the fourth kiss becomes the fifth, or maybe the fourth again just interrupted, and you never want this to end. And even when it does, you promise her silently that there will always be more after.  
  
You realize when she's gone that you still don't know who she was yelling at when this all started, but right then you don't _need_ to know.


End file.
